


Gekkan Shounen Akaashi-kun

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AkaKage Week, Crack, Fluff, GSNK AU, M/M, fuck the fourth wall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7962925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Kageyama Tobio manages to spit out a botched confession to his favorite manga writer and current love interest, things work out but not entirely as planned. Will Akaashi Keiji ever figure out the true nature of Kageyama's feelings, let alone have a chance in hell of returning them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Akakage Week, Days 1-7. There will be seven chapters for each of the seven days.

Cheery sunlight pours into the classroom, making Kageyama squint against the force of it. The room is empty save for a single person, his silhouette glowing in front of the window as he gazes down upon the people below. However, when Akaashi hears the sound of the door creaking open, he turns his head to see who is not taking advantage of this glorious day.

Oh, crap.

Kageyama’s heart pounds when he sees the almost ethereal glow of sun around Akaashi’s mess of curls. There is a faraway thought of angel choirs and heavenly hosts as his feet slowly drag him farther into the room and nearer to Akaashi.

“Kageyama,” Akaashi acknowledges as he turns his attention back to observing the masses.

Gulping, Kageyama stutters, “Aka-aka . . .” He swallows hard and takes a deep breath. “Akaashi-kun!”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kageyama only dares to crane a single one open to gauge Akaashi’s response to his nervous stammer. However, he is met with only a raised brow and a, “Hmm?”

Drawing up every particle of courage inside himself, Kageyama steps closer and bows deeply to Akaashi. “I think you’re really cool!”

It takes everything Kageyama has to not rip his own hair out at his ridiculous words. He has planned it all out. He had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror at home and a few times more at the start of the school day just to be sure. Over and over again. _Akaashi-san, I like you a lot. Please accept my feelings._ Nothing complicated because Kageyama knows he’ll forget anything longer, but these humble and direct words were perfect for what he wants to say.

The first time Kageyama read Akaashi’s manga, published under the pseudonym Fukuro Kei, had been a religious experience. The characters are smart and engaging, and the stories pleasant and fun. All in all, it is a prime example of quality sports manga. The way he draws the characters’ hopes and dreams on their faces and their wills on their sleeves with their hearts is what keeps up Kageyama’s perpetual lateness on the mornings the manga is released at the shop down the street from their school.

It has taken a lot of sleuthing and a very uncomfortable series of phone calls with his former senpai from middle school who is in the business, but Kageyama finally figured out who the author of his favorite manga really is. Imagine his surprise when he finds out that the quiet young man one class over who had picked the gate lock for Kageyama on the first day of their first year after being locked out and very late.

After all, getting lost is not irregular for Kageyama, nor is getting bad directions from his mother.

Akaashi had saved him that day, and Kageyama’s heart reserves a sliver only for the boy who, upon further thoughts, displays overt signs of potential larceny. However, the only thing Akaashi has stolen, at least to his knowledge, is Kageyama’s affections.

Finding out his favorite batchmate is also his favorite mangaka, though, is another story altogether.

So here he stands in front of Akaashi, knees shaking after spitting out stupid words from his even stupider mouth, tentatively holding out the first issue of _Weekly Shonen Jump_ Kageyama had ever purchased, complete with the first run of a brand new manga called  _Haikyuu!!_.

Akaashi hums as he looks at the offering, and with a hint of a smile, he takes the book from Kageyama, signs the cover with a Sharpie from his own pocket, and returns it with a nod. “Thank you.”

The front of the book is covered with Akaashi’s familiar penmanship. _Kageyama-kun, thank you for reading. Signed, Fukuro Kei._

Kageyama looks at the words, blinking in surprise as he attempts to absorb what has just occurred, only to glance back up and find Akaashi gazing out onto the sun-bathed school grounds once again.

“I —” The word scratches in Kageyama’s throat as he struggles to figure out what to say, let alone work it out of his traitorous mouth. “I am your servant!”

 _Damn it, damn it, damn it!_ Kageyama slaps the book over his face, hoping to beat the words back inside his head before Akaashi is unfortunate enough to overhear them, only to whimper to himself when Akaashi redirects his attention at Kageyama once more.

“Oh?” Akaashi steps away from the window and examines Kageyama like a specimen in a laboratory. Scratching his chin, he eyes the stack of Kageyama’s school books on the desk by the door where he had left them before starting this obviously foolish endeavor. He thumbs through them, a variety of expressions Kageyama can’t hope to read flitting across his face before he straightens up the stack.

“Come over to my house later,” Akaashi says as he resumes his observation post at the window. “Meet me at the gate after school.”

Kageyama’s vision goes white for a moment, the weight of Akaashi’s meaning too heavy for his bombarded brain to carry. “Y-yes!” he squeaks as he backs out of the room, slapping his signed manga onto his mound of books before stumbling out of the room and running for his life and whatever is left of his dignity as soon as he crosses the threshold.

After leaving his books back in his own classroom, Kageyama barrels down the hall until he spies a cleaning closet and ducks inside. His chest heaving with the effort, he slouches against the wall and bangs the back of his head into the bricks.

“I’m such an idiot,” he whines, closing his eyes and hoping he’ll wake up to a world in which this is not his plight.

So much for that idea.

His brain turns over the entire disastrous interaction, and every time, a sense of trepidation mounts. He had agreed to coming over to a boy’s house immediately after confessing. He hadn’t expected Akaashi to be so brazen, but what is even more shocking is his own willingness to agree to it. What if Akaashi thinks he is too loose with his affections? What if Akaashi stands him up? What if Akaashi doesn’t actually like him at all?

Oh, god, what if he _does_?

Unable to compute the avalanche of variables, Kageyama does the only thing in his power, which is to sit on the floor of the closet and hide his face and hope nobody misses him until it’s time to go back to class.

As he makes the long trek back to his classroom, Kageyama knows that it’s going to be a very, very long day.


	2. Chapter 2

Kageyama’s belly quakes as he waits by the school gates for Akaashi. What seems like the entire student body passes him while he waits, and one of his fears starts to manifest in the form of being stood up. However — whether it’s stupidity or resolve, he has no idea — he stays for a few more minutes just to make sure.

He nearly jumps out of his skin when a warm hand lands on his shoulder. “Ready, Kageyama?”

Turning around to see a bored-looking Akaashi nod his head towards the opposite direction of the train stop Kageyama usually takes, he follows without a word. After turning it over in his head time and time again during class, definitely causing him to lose the contents of the entire lesson into the mental ether, Kageyama decides that the worst thing that could happen is embarrassment. The benefits of being in Akaashi’s orbit are too good to pass up when the opportunity presents itself. Kageyama might be an idiot, but he’s not stupid.

So he follows along with Akaashi, who walks at a sedate pace, though with a stride made longer by his superior height, causing Kageyama to trot along a bit more briskly. He’s slightly winded by the time they get to a clean-looking apartment building, and Akaashi lets them into the front door with a shining key.

They sweep by a wall of mailboxes and a few doors on their way to the stairs, and up they go for five floors before they reach the top of the building. Jaw dropping, Kageyama follows Akaashi inside of the small apartment.

Surrounded by tools of the trade, there is no inch of this space that doesn’t scream that Akaashi is an accomplished creator.

Kageyama buzzes with excitement as he reaches out for the cup of pens, the different nibs subject to various states of wear. A huge bottle of ink sits next to them, and three more line the shelf on the wall next to the lighted desk. Giddy with the knowledge that he’s touching a piece of entertainment history, he lets his fingers glide down the edge of the desk. “Gwah!” he gasps out loud.

“Please sit,” Akaashi offers as he drops a large sheet of paper in front of Kageyama. “If you don’t mind, find the marks and fill in the beta coloring.”

“What?” Kageyama scowls at the paper, nose pinched as he tries to work out what kind of euphemism Akaashi is intimating.

Akaashi cocks his head to the side and points at the page. “Here, look for these little symbols —” He gestures to the little tell-tale X marks on the paper. “— and fill in the black in those areas.”

“I know what beta means,” Kageyama grumbles as he complies. He feels the weight of Akaashi’s gaze as he inks, trying not to let the occasional hum or mumbled compliment go to his head.

This can’t be why he’s here. This certainly isn’t why he came, and beta work is not some kind of prelude to . . . well, it’s just _not_. But the work is in front of him, he knows how to do it, so that’s exactly what he’s going to do until he figures out what is going on.

After a few hours of inking, Kageyama is shaken out of his trance when no new page appears in front of him after he finishes. “Huh?”

“You’re hired.” Akaashi nods briskly as he presents a can of iced coffee. “Tools of the trade.”

Kageyama nearly drools on himself in surprise as he takes in Akaashi’s words. “I was applying for a job?”

Akaashi frowns as he raises a brow at Kageyama. “Weren’t you? You declared your desire to work for me, and I know your art is top notch from your sketchbook. I need a beta, so why not?”

Mouth ready to snap out a plethora of reasons Kageyama doesn’t have for exactly why not, he is about to turn down Akaashi when he turns over the idea in his head without his ridiculous crush to cloud his judgment. Akaashi is a respected manga artist, working with him will be good on Kageyama’s artistic resume, and even if the pay is low, it would be more than he gets sitting at home mooning over someone he has the opportunity to work with every day now.

Why not, indeed.

Kageyama shoots to his feet and chirps, “I look forward to working with you, sensei!”

At the honorific, Akaashi harrumphs. “You don’t have to call me sensei.”

“Shishou!” Kageyama blurts, wanting to swallow the word back in.

However, Akaashi merely laughs as he settles the can of coffee into Kageyama’s hand. “Just Akaashi is fine.” As he strolls away from the desk, Akaashi says over his shoulder, “I’ll make dinner, if you want to stay.”

Kageyama mouths Akaashi’s name over and over, getting used to the feel of it on his tongue. He considers his wild ride of a day, the unlikely chain of events that led him to this point, sitting in the living room of his favorite mangaka as his newest employee while said person cooks for him.

Coaxing his vocal chords to make their least stupid sound all day, Kageyama replies with a squeaked, “I’d like that very much.”

Dinner is a surreal experience, with Kageyama wondering where Akaashi is hiding his own personal chef and how this curry could possibly be so delicious. He eats his fill and then some until the mere thought of walking makes him nauseous, so he lolls listlessly on Akaashi’s couch until it’s nearly dark and he has to make the last bus to his own part of town.

Kageyama doesn’t even know what to do with himself when the experience repeats day after day. They work, Akaashi cooks, and Kageyama soaks it all up with wonder (and sometimes bread). He learns a bit about Akaashi while they do their respective chores to work on the manga.

Akaashi lives here alone, Kageyama is surprised to find, though the utter lack of anyone else around makes him wonder why he’s so shocked. It allows him to work the hours he needs to work and have a short commute to school, and his proceeds from the publishing company are enough to pay for rent and supplies.

And so they forge ahead for nearly a week until he is shaken by another surprise. Kageyama is mid-stroke with the pen when the door to the apartment slams open, making him jump in surprise and swipe the pen across the page.

“Oh, ho, ho!” declares a salt and pepper-haired stranger with a giant smile and even bigger biceps. “How’s it goin’, Akaashi?”

Something chilly worms its way into Kageyama’s belly. Is Akaashi taken by this loud, large, and irritatingly good-looking guy? Did Kageyama ever really have a chance.

He looks down at the large line of ink scarring the page and muses that it looks a little like his plans to woo Akaashi: ruined.


	3. Chapter 3

The mood in the whole apartment changes when the newcomer makes himself at home. He loudly chats about anything and everything that bubbles out of his brain, and Kageyama can barely focus on his corrections with all the racket. Finally, he is able to phase out the misstroke and resume his beta work when a pair of large hands clap him on the shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey, new guy! I’m Bokuto, and I am your senpai!”

Kageyama turns to look at Bokuto and catches him frowning at Kageyama in particular, which makes him shrink a little into his seat. “But don’t be asking me all kinds of questions. I ain’t your babysitter.”

“O-kay,” Kageyama drawls as he scours his brain for any indication he has given that such a thing were likely to happen. Finding none, he makes sure to keep up the good work and gets back to his beta job.

Concentration proves to be difficult as Bokuto prowls around the room, taking interest in every decoration, every poster, every tool. Kageyama wants to throw the ink pot at him, but he swallows his irritation and manages to eke out a few more pages of inking before Akaashi leans over from his own desk and mutters, “Number Three?”

Without putting down his own pen, Kageyama sifts through his cup until he finds the one Akaashi requested and hands it over. He nearly jumps when he finds Akaashi looming at his side.

“He really does want you to ask him questions. It makes him feel smart.”

Kageyama wonders what stroke of fate landed him in such an absurd situation, but in the absence of much to do about it, he shrugs and says aloud, “Bokuto-san? Would you mind helping me?”

Bit by bit, Kageyama blandly asks questions that he already knows the answer to, watching as Bokuto’s smile glows warmer and brighter each time. When he gets a toothy grin that reaches the corner of Bokuto’s eyes, Kageyama decides that maybe Bokuto is actually kind of all right. For a nut.

After an hour of the forced question/answer session, Kageyama stops and turns to Bokuto. “Hey, Bokuto-san, how do you help Akaashi-san?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” Bokuto nudges Kageyama out of his seat. “Watch this.”

Bokuto takes one of the inked pages that has already dried and pulls a box out of Akaashi’s closet. He rifles through the pages of what Kageyama vaguely recognizes as screentones until he finds the one he’s looking for. He sticks it to the page and, with a knife he pulls out of Akaashi’s pen cup, trims it down until the pattern is completely incorporated into the page.

“See? Did you see it?” Bokuto thrusts the page into Kageyama’s face to verify. “I do that!”

“Very good, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says as he pries Bokuto’s hands away from Kageyama’s face, steering him to the kotatsu across the room. “Yesterday’s work is finished and ready for you to work on.”

Without another word, Bokuto lapses into laser-like concentration, his focus not straying from his work once until he slouches back into his chair, slobber dribbling from the corner of his mouth as he lightly snores. Kageyama creeps over quietly, curious about the quality and quantity of Bokuto’s work.

He almost gasps when he finds page after page of finished screentone work, every shade exactly what fits the scene and the characters. Not a single one of them looks bad against the other, and Kageyama can’t help but squawk with wonder at it.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Akaashi mentions next to him. “How a hyper guy like him can do such intricate work, I don’t know. But he’s good at it.”

“Yes,” Kageyama admits, glad he doesn’t have to be the one to voice such an opinion. “I didn’t know you had other assistants.”

Akaashi nods. “If I didn’t go to school, I would do it all myself, but I need help if I want to make my deadlines. I figured that out when I ruined an entire panel because I fell asleep at my desk and my forehead smashed the paper and ripped it.”

“So dedicated,” Kageyama murmurs as he looks at Akaashi in amazement. “No wonder you’re the best, Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi colors at the compliment and ducks away to the kitchen to prepare something for them to snack on. Bokuto’s nap is shortened by the scent of food, and soon they’re all hovering over the pot of fried rice Akaashi is stirring. They’re halfway through the meal when the door opens once again, albeit more carefully this time.

“Oi, Akaashi, we’re ready!” calls a tall, black-haired boy around their age with the most absurd hair Kageyama has ever seen. Beside him is a tiny guy, who has to be a foot shorter than his companion, with sandy blond hair and an aura of irritation engrained in his face as he winces at the loudness of the greeting.

“Hello, Kuroo-san, Yaku-san,” Akaashi greets before going back to his food.

Bokuto, however, runs across the room, coiled and ready to jump on Kuroo. Kuroo does the same, and their chests collide and they both reel back laughing. Kageyama blinks at the display, while Yaku darts out of the way, muttering, “Idiots.”

Arms looped together, a dizzy Bokuto and Kuroo stagger into the kitchen, where Kuroo declares, “Smells good, Akaashi. What’re we having?”

“Help yourself, Kuroo-san,” Akaashi says unflinchingly. “I made plenty.”

While Kuroo digs in, Yaku waits at the side and says, “You’re running early, Akaashi. Who is your new help?”

Kageyama yelps when the focus turns to him, but Akaashi gestures to him and says, “This is Kageyama. He does beta,” before going back to his food.

Yaku sits next to Kageyama and gives him a smile that belies his prior crankiness. “Nice to meet you, Kageyama-kun. I’m Yaku. I do backgrounds.”

The name has rung a bell since he heard it, and Kageyama finally places it. Yaku is also the president of the drama club. “I am in your care, Yaku-senpai,” Kageyama says. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Oh, aren’t you nice?” Yaku croons as he takes his turn piling up a plate of food. “You two idiots should take note of Kageyama-kun. He’s polite.”

Bokuto pouts. “Hey, I’m polite.”

Akaashi nearly chokes on a wad of rice, and they all laugh a little.

After the meal, Akaashi does the dishes while the rest of them get to work. Kageyama observes Yaku’s precise and painstaking pen strokes as he makes the world come to life around the characters. Trees, buildings, cars, pets, balls, and sidewalks crop up for Kageyama to ink and Bokuto to apply tones to before being sent to Kuroo for the script to be painstakingly and neatly scribed into the pre-formed chat bubbles, and for the first time since he began his new job, he sees the manga he loves so much come to life.

Akaashi arranges the pages as they’re finished until, around midnight, the last page joins the pile. Kageyama can barely keep his eyes open, while Yaku’s head bobs up from a dull snooze intermittently and the other two brazenly snore on the kotatsu.

Kageyama is too tired to be properly startled when Akaashi touches his shoulder. “There is no school tomorrow since it’s Friday. You can stay the night if you like.”

It’s barely there, but Kageyama catches a hint of a smile from Akaashi and his body surges to life like he has just downed a dozen coffee drinks. “Thank you, Akaashi-san!” He looks over at the other three, only to find that Yaku has succumbed to both slumber and gravity, his leaden body sprawled out on top of Kuroo’s snoozing form. “What about them?”

“We can put the idiots in my room and Yaku on the couch. We’ll take the futons.” With that, Akaashi starts to shepherd his sleeping comrades to their respective bunks for the night, leaving Kageyama to fish for futons he doesn’t know where they’re stored while trying not to dwell on the fact that he’ll be sleeping within arm’s reach of Akaashi.

It’s going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

The night, it turns out, is not as long as Kageyama figures. Almost as soon as his head touches a makeshift pillow, derived from an inside-out hoodie stuffed with yet another hoodie, he is out like a light until he’s shaken awake well past sunrise.

“Kageyama-kun, Akaashi is almost done with breakfast.”

With Yaku’s voice filtering into his hazy brain, Kageyama yawns loudly and looks around, taking a moment to process where he is and where he isn’t. His eyes bulge in horror when he spots his pants, flung across the room over the chair at one of the drawing tables, while his shirt dwells a few feet short of it on the floor.

Blushing, he pulls his blanket up to his chin as if it will hide the fact that he’s in his underwear and had been while also next to Akaashi. He doesn’t recall waking up to strip, but the evidence is there and Kageyama wants to melt into the floor. He sends a pained look over at Akaashi’s slept-in futon, only to pull the blanket over his entire head so he can cringe in private.

“Hmm,” Yaku hums as he tugs down the hem of the blanket. “So that’s how it is.”

“What?” Kageyama asks, not sure what Yaku means but almost afraid to ask.

Kageyama is saved from such an awful task when Yaku collects his clothes and dumps them in his lap. “Bokuto and Kuroo are fighting over the shower and Akaashi’s cooking, so you’re fine if you want to get dressed in here.”

“Thank you,” Kageyama rasps as he clutches his rumpled school uniform for dear life.

With a nod, Yaku turns around to afford Kageyama privacy so he can jam himself into his clothes and say in an overly-high voice, “What’s for breakfast?”

“No idea,” Yaku replies with a shrug. He pokes his head into the bedroom, which houses Akaashi’s lone shower, and barks, “Hey, you idiots make it quick.”

“Yakkun is crabby this morning,” Kuroo sings in an awful falsetto to the tune of a crappy pop song Kageyama vaguely recognizes from the radio. “Maybe his prince is ignoring him.”

While Yaku quietly simmers, Bokuto laughs and chimes, “I think Lev ignoring him would make him happy. His problem is the other way around.”

“Right you are, my brother.” Kuroo claps Bokuto on the shoulder and leans in. “We’ve got the right idea, don’t we? Single and ready to mingle.”

Bokuto pokes a thumb at his chest and howls, “Oh, yeah! Stag and ready to —”

“Shut up!” Yaku cries before the door to the bath slams behind him.

“Someone needs his coffee,” Kuroo pouts as he pulls Kageyama into a shoulder hug. “He’s nice to you, though. Must be that youthful glow. That shine of years that have not touched your soft and innocent soul yet.”

Kageyama scowls. “Kuroo-san, I’m only a year younger.”

“A year is a lifetime in high school, Tsundere-kun.” Kuroo ruffles Kageyama’s hair and pushes him towards the kitchen. “Go keep Akaashi company.”

At that, Kageyama blanches, wondering what to talk to Akaashi about when there is no work to be done. He doesn’t trust the look that Bokuto and Kuroo share.

“Oh, ho, ho?” Bokuto drawls as he lists towards Kageyama. “Is Akaashi perhaps the object of your youthful affection?”

“No!” Kageyama snaps as he hides his face, the traitor that has put him in this awful position. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hmm.” Kuroo pokes at his clenched hands before turning to Bokuto. “I think he knows what we’re talking about. Do you think so, my esteemed bro?”

“Esteemed bro, I do believe he does.” They grin at each other. “Go on, Kageyama. Akaashi’s heart ain’t gonna win itself.”

Ready to explode from mortification, Kageyama weighs his reticence at making idle conversation with Akaashi against this crippling embarrassment and opts for the former, which can’t be any worse than this.

“Good morning, Kageyama,” Akaashi says as he stirs a large skillet of eggs. “Do you prefer juice, milk, coffee, or tea?”

“M-milk,” Kageyama stammers as he watches the deft way Akaashi’s artistic hands turn the wooden spatula in his hand. “I like milk.”

Akaashi nods in assent. “Good. I like it, too. Coffee is necessary, but milk is a joy.” To demonstrate his point, Akaashi picks up his own glass from the counter, raises it to Kageyama, and takes a long drag.

Kageyama feels like the room is twenty degrees too hot as he watches the lines of Akaashi’s smooth throat rise and fall to take his drink. Hoping the steam in the room is from the cooking and not from his own ears, Kageyama nods emphatically as he dives into the refrigerator and pulls out the milk carton. Akaashi hands him a glass with a cartoon cat on it, and Kageyama nearly drops it three times while filling it and transporting it to the table.

He has never been so happy to see the other three assistants as he is the moment they all pour into the kitchen and pile around the table. “Smells great, Akaashi! Almost ready?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi answers as he dumps the eggs into a glass serving dish and takes it to the table. From the turned-off oven, he then produces covered trays of fried vegetables and potatoes, along with a pile of sliced ham. After the steaming food is arranged and Kageyama’s mouth starts to water, Akaashi bows and says, “Thank you all for your hard work.”

They say a quick blessing before digging in to the delicious meal. Kageyama enjoys the taste as well as the visual appeal of Akaashi’s food, as his mother is more of a necessity cook and Kageyama himself is no better. But every slice and chunk of Akaashi’s breakfast is perfectly browned, every bite of eggs glimmering with flavor and moisture.

Kageyama doesn’t realize he’s staring at a chunk of potato captured in his chopsticks until Yaku lightly elbows him. “You still asleep upstairs, Kageyama-kun?”

Out of reflex, Kageyama shoves the piece of potato into his mouth and aggressively chews. The other two titter while Akaashi blithely plows his way through his own plate.

However, as he swallows the chunk of food, Kageyama feels panic set in as it clings to the back of his throat. Unable to force it down or to draw a breath around it, he forces a cough as he pounds on his chest. In a blink, Akaashi is beside him, holding out his own glass of milk.

Without a word, Kageyama accepts it and, to his dual curiosity and mortification, drinks from the same spot where Akaashi’s own telltale sips have dried around the rim.

Kageyama’s teary eyes don’t miss the looks exchanged by Bokuto, Kuroo, and Yaku, though, and he finally dislodges the chunk of potato from his throat, only for a lump of trepidation to take its place.

The three of them keep their eyes on Kageyama for the rest of breakfast, especially as Kageyama sheepishly hands Akaashi his glass back. “Thank you,” he wheezes as he ducks his head, shoveling food into his mouth at a lightning pace. Maybe if he chokes again, a wad of carrot will finish the job and put him out of his misery.

There is no such luck as they all finish their food and herd back into the living room, ready to tackle another day of manga mania. But as he notices them paying far more attention to him than is strictly necessary for the job, Kageyama wonders what he has done to anger the cosmic powers to deserve such a fate.

The day before was long; today is going to be even longer.


	5. Chapter 5

If a bout of choking hadn’t been construed as a sign, Kageyama is certain that the rest of the day is just that.

At every turn, Kageyama finds himself being shuffled towards Akaashi for no reason, and Akaashi shooed over to him for the same nonsensical cause. At first, it is only Bokuto and Kuroo participating in the practice, but after the day winds down and they round the bend towards dinner, even Yaku joins into the attempt to thrust Akaashi and Kageyama into close proximity frequently and mercilessly.

The situation comes to a head after their eighth hour straight of working. The sun is blazing in through the west-facing window, making it hard for Kageyama to see anything through its glare. Grumbling, he stalks over to the window and jams down the blind and returns to his post, the his belly rumbling as the need for a meal rapidly sets in.

He squeezes his pen a little too hard when Kuroo saunters past the window and snaps the blind back up, sending the searing light right back into Kageyama’s eyes. Growling under his breath, Kageyama stomps back over and slams the blind back down, strangling his pen for dear life when he sits back down. Akaashi looks over at him from his spot against the wall, scribbling into his notebook as he drafts the next week’s storyline of the manga.

This time, Bokuto does the honors and blinds Kageyama again. Kageyama’s hand is shaking with anger as he tries and fails to stand up, his legs jellified by his aggravation. However, he melts into astonishment when Akaashi’s gentle grasp pries away the close-to-snapping pen, puts it on the table, and he crosses the room to pull the blind down.

After blotting out the sun, Akaashi goes over to where Bokuto and Kuroo are snickering and looking far too pleased with themselves and whacks them each in turn over the head with his notebook.

“Please stop bothering Kageyama-kun.”

As Kuroo and Bokuto gape at Akaashi, who returns to his seat without another word and resumes writing, Kageyama sends a startled glance over to Yaku, who gives him a grin and a thumbs-up.

Kageyama wishes the paper in front of him were large enough or thick enough to shield him from this sensation of wanting to tear his skin off and jump out the window.

Soon after, as they all run out of steam, Bokuto and Kuroo head home, having promised their mothers they would be home for dinner, and Yaku begs off for a club function of some sort. That leaves Kageyama and Akaashi alone once again, and Kageyama wishes he could think of some quick lie that would enable him to make a similar escape.

Akaashi smiles gently and gestures towards the couch. “How about Thai? My treat.”

“Huh?” Kageyama scratches his head until Akaashi pulls down a stack of menus from the top of the refrigerator and starts to sift through them. Finally, he produces one for a restaurant a couple of miles away that Kageyama favors heavily when he gets to choose where he and his family eat out at times. He greedily eyes the sixteen varieties of curry they offer, and his enthusiasm is punctuated by the rumbling of his empty stomach.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Akaashi picks up his phone from the kitchen counter and dials the number. He orders cashew chicken for himself and a large side of edamame before handing the phone to Kageyama to place his own order. Kageyama spits out his default favorite for the place and thrusts the phone back to Akaashi, his cheeks reddening.

Akaashi raises a brow and finishes the call, and without anything else to distract them, the room is achingly silent until Akaashi turns on the television.

They suffer through a terrible array of shows that the stations figure no one is home on a Saturday to watch before they abandon the airwaves for Akaashi’s small video collection. They’re just past the intro to some artsy noir film Kageyama doesn’t recognize when the buzzer rings. Akaashi answers, returning with a bulging paper bag and twin glasses of milk.

“Enjoying the movie?” he asks as he hands over one of the glasses.

Kageyama bites his lip, not sure how to admit that he has no idea what’s going on. “Um, sure.”

Akaashi sighs. “Sorry, it’s not for everyone. It’s just an old favorite.”

As Akaashi reaches for the remote to stop the DVD player, Kageyama swipes it out of his hand and snaps, “No!” Akaashi looks at Kageyama in surprise, making him duck his head in shame that he had yelled. “No, we can keep watching it. I just don’t understand the plot yet.”

Akaashi’s entire expression transforms at these words, and Kageyama feels like he’s staring into the sun again. “Ah, so here’s what’s going on . . .” Akaashi breaks down the movie into pieces Kageyama can digest, and after a few minutes, Kageyama is far clearer about what is happening.

The film finishes out, and Akaashi changes the disk to another of his favorites. However, this time, the late hour and the heaviness of way too much food begins to drag Kageyama’s eyelids down until he misses a huge swath of the movie to sleeping while sitting up.

He yawns his pleasure when Akaashi drapes the kotatsu blanket around his shoulders, and he rapidly succumbs to sleep.

It’s dark in the room when Kageyama awakens to answer the call of nature. It takes his eyes a while to adjust to the glow of the television set, which is noiselessly playing some awful station full of infomercials. Sitting up, Kageyama stretches his arms and prepares to extricate himself from the unheated yet still cozily warm kotatsu when he hears it. A soft, tell-tale wheezing sound buzzes at his side, and when Kageyama turns to investigate, he sees a curled-up Akaashi, tucked into the kotatsu and fast asleep.

His heart physically paining him from how hard it is pounding inside his chest, Kageyama swallows past his overly dry throat and rushes for the toilet as fast as he can without waking his sleeping companion.

Akaashi had stayed with him. Even when he has a nice bed of his own waiting for him, Akaashi had chosen to stay next to Kageyama while they sleep. Stifling the desire to pump his fist, Kageyama takes care of his business and creeps back to the kotatsu. Carefully, he settles back down and falls asleep with an eyeful of Akaashi, and he starts to think that despite all of his senpais’ meddling, things might actually work out in his quest to get Akaashi to notice his affections after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rest in pieces, Kageyama-kun.


	6. Chapter 6

The days that follow are a difficult slog for Kageyama. He endures a few more attempts to play matchmaker by his fellow assistants, much to Akaashi’s lack of knowledge, as well as a devastating lack of romantic encouragement from the man himself.

He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Akaashi had been a solicitous host and a polite human being during their sleepover, nothing more. There is nothing to be read into sleeping next to someone or them being happy you liked or at least tolerated their favorite film. Kageyama knows he has only set himself up for heartbreak, but after weeks of this, enough is enough.

So, Akaashi doesn’t like him that way. It is what it is, but Kageyama doesn’t want to lose what they do have to a foolish confession, lest Akaashi inadvertently cotton on to the correct meaning of another one of Kageyama’s equally foolish declarations.

But being friends, now that is something he can do.

The warm winds of spring tickle his nose while he strides along with Akaashi towards the apartment where they have made twenty-two manga issues together to date, along with the rest of the gang. They’re nearly there when he sees a sign on a pole that reminds him of something he had nearly forgotten, having brushed it off as an unnecessary reminder of his single status, as he would likely attend alone while his classmates pair up at it.

The school cultural festival is set to run two weeks from now, and while Kageyama has managed to escape work duty during the event by drawing that very poster on that pole for the committee, he considers the idea of going to it anyway. Not by himself, but maybe with someone else.

Maybe with Akaashi.

Kageyama’s knee collides painfully with a bench as his vision whites out just a little at the thought of asking Akaashi on something that very much resembles a date. However, despite his reticence, the urge to do so anyway is poking insistently at his resolve.

Akaashi stops walking to give Kageyama a hand to regain his balance, offering a soft, “Are you all right?”

Kageyama winces a smile and croaks, “Mind wandered off.”

“It happens.” Akaashi gazes off at the horde of students buzzing around a coffee shop near their school and harrumphs. “I did the same thing walking to school. I was thinking about the next match in the series, about whether Oikawa should ever be able to defeat Ushiwaka, and I racked myself on the bench back.”

A chortle squeaked out of Kageyama, but before he could stop it, he let loose with a gale of laughter at the mental image of Akaashi’s cringe-worthy incident. He doesn’t stop until he’s nearly wheezing for air, and to his relief, Akaashi is amused rather than offended by Kageyama’s mirth.

“I should definitely learn to watch where I walk,” Akaashi finishes as they continue their journey. “But if I do it again, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

“Deal,” Kageyama answers as he stares straight ahead and not over at Akaashi, whose hair is rustling under the influence of the March breeze. No, he is certainly not ogling the way the sun lights up the halo of flyaways and makes Akaashi look like he’s glowing.

Okay, so he is watching.

When his toe finds a loose brick in the sidewalk, Akaashi stops walking to give him a curious look. “Kageyama, is something wrong?”

Resisting the urge to say something else stupid, Kageyama shakes his head and opts for the truth. “No, Akaashi-san. I was just thinking of asking if you wanted to go to the cultural festival on Friday.”

“Oh?” Akaashi adjusts Kageyama’s skewed hair and gives him a nod. “Okay. The rest of the guys were going to make me go anyway. It’ll be easier if it’s just us.”

 _Just us_ , Kageyama turns over in his head with a gulp.

“I would like that very much, Akaashi-san.” Kageyama adjusts his backpack to alleviate the book stabbing into his spine from his tumble and brushes himself off. “Thank you for considering it.”

Akaashi gives him a bob of the head and they go back to their journey. A few minutes later, they arrive at Akaashi’s apartment and it’s back to their regularly scheduled programming. Their twenty-third issue together storms through production, with almost four pages passing through Kageyama’s table in just five hours.

But a while after Bokuto, Yaku, and Kuroo come in to work on their portion, Akaashi throws down his pen and sighs out loud. “My editor wants me to make the story a little more appealing to girls. Apparently, more teenage girls read it than boys.”

Kageyama frowns. “So? If it wasn’t fine the way it was, they wouldn’t read it.”

“Which is what I said,” Akaashi answers, sighing into his hands. “I think they just want a gimmick. Something they can merchandise.”

Shrugging, Kuroo offers, “How about a cat? Hello Kitty is popular with women of all ages.”

Akaashi shudders at the thought. “No. That’s too obvious, and I don’t want to completely sell my soul to the merchant gods.”

“Puppies?” Bokuto says, giving Akaashi an apologetic smile even as he says it. The idea is skewered in similar fashion to its feline predecessor.

Yaku scratches his head in thought, and Kageyama finds himself leaning over to hear what he has to say. He forgets to censor his face when the first word he hears is, “Tanuki?”

Akaashi’s face turns from thoughtful to done faster than Kageyama can even think the word ‘tanuki’, and even Yaku shrinks from Akaashi’s stormy reaction.

“Akaashi-san,” Kageyama decides to offer after a tense silence. “Why not a short bonus comic series that features them as chibis doing everyday things?”

Eyes widening, Akaashi’s mouth splits into a grin, and for a moment, Kageyama forgets how to breathe. “That’s perfect, Kageyama,” Akaashi says as he delves into his work once again with gusto.

The rest of them follow suit, and for the next few days, they continue on with a side panel reserved for the protagonist team’s adventures after practice with meat buns and popsicles. Akaashi seems happy with the content, at least from what Kageyama can tell, and it puts him at ease as the wait for the cultural festival stretches on.

Soon, the day of the event arrives, and Kageyama rushes around his room at home, wondering what he should wear. It’s a school day, but nobody has to wear uniforms for it, as casual dress is allowed for the day. But everything Kageyama owns is in possession of some minor defect. This shirt is too small, this hoodie is too old. Those jeans don’t stay up.

He’s about to give up and wear his school uniform anyway when he reaches the back of his wardrobe and unearths something his mother had purchased for him to attend some family trip to an onsen the previous year.

It fits him just fine, has no visible holes or oddities, and at a cultural festival, it wouldn’t be out of place.

His fingers stroke the soft navy blue fabric of the yukata, tracing the minute silver pinstripes woven into it, and he gives himself a brief high five for solving the problem without spending any of his hard-earned cash from working for Akaashi.

They had decided to meet at Akaashi’s house, which is near a bus stop easily accessible from Kageyama’s usual route, and walk to the school together. Kageyama’s hands sweat as he bumps along on the bus, earning odd looks from various passengers heading to work for the day for his more traditional attire, but he is too busy wondering if Akaashi is going to be wearing something similar. It’s unlikely, but he isn’t averse to holding out hope that his new dream he never knew he had might come true. Maybe something green, to match the mossy hue of his eyes.

 _No_ , Kageyama scolds himself as he palms away his sweat. “I’m not even thinking about that,” he mumbles to himself, glaring at a middle-aged woman who gives him a funny look.

He bolts from the bus when he reaches the correct stop, but as he’s prying himself from the crush of commuters trying to board as he disembarks, Kageyama nearly stumbles when he sees that Akaashi is waiting for him on a nearby bench, thumbing through last week’s issue of _Weekly Shounen Jump_ and frowning, probably at some minute error no one will ever notice.

But what Akaashi is doing isn’t what makes Kageyama lose his equilibrium. It’s what he’s wearing. Long swaths of cotton sit gracefully on his lean limbs, hugging his trim waist with the help of a perfectly tied obi and shapely silhouette. Matching sandals hang off of pale feet as they dangle off the edge of the bench.

And hey, it’s green.

Kageyama approaches slowly, unable to find it within him to hail Akaashi so they can be on their way, lest he disturb the glorious scene in front of him. It isn’t until he hovers close enough for an older man to give them _that_ look that Kageyama manages to clear his throat loudly and painfully.

“Ah,” Akaashi says with a sedate smile as he closes the book and tucks it into his shoulder bag. “I lost track of time.”

Choking out something that vaguely resembles an ‘all right,’ Kageyama nods and gestures in the direction of the school, and they take off.

Step by step, turn by turn, stride by stride, Kageyama is very aware of Akaashi next to him. Aware of the fine figure he cuts in a yukata, aware of his graceful gait and noiseless stride, aware of their shoulders brushing together just a little as they move along.

Almost hitting another bench, Kageyama shakes off that thought and decides that no matter what, today is about friendship and nothing else.

He doesn’t know how well he’ll do, but it doesn’t hurt to try.


	7. Chapter 7

Their school is like every other school ever built in that its cultural festival is very standard. There are maid cafes and noodle booths and a variety of other normal suspects to be found at such an event. However, Kageyama looks around in awe at everything like it’s the first thing he’s ever seen after being blind his entire life, mostly because he cannot think of anything to say to Akaashi no matter how hard he tries.

So the itchy silence drones on, with little being said outside of Akaashi procuring a cup of homemade noodles and a paper fan he tucks into the sleeve of his yukata. He turns to Kageyama as he makes the purchase, inquiring with a soft, “Would you like some?”

Not sure his throat would cooperate with the act of swallowing with prolonged exposure to Akaashi’s breath-taking beauty, Kageyama squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, hoping that he doesn’t look too insane as he does it. Akaashi shrugs and finishes his purchase, inhaling the savory smell of the broth before clicking his disposable chopsticks to life.

It’s nearly noon by the time Akaashi stops walking and turns to Kageyama with a frown. “Kageyama, are you all right? You’ve barely said anything all day.” He worries his lip a little with his teeth before looking down. He raises his head with a crooked smile that doesn’t look much like one at all to Kageyama. “Tired of me already?”

Kageyama gapes at Akaashi as he stutters anything and everything that flies into his head to dispel that notion. He isn’t sure what is coming out in complete sentences and what is utter nonsense, but it doesn’t take long for his words to chase away that little wrinkle of insecurity on Akaashi’s brow. With a smile — a real one, this time — Akaashi lightly bumps his shoulder into Kageyama’s as they continue with their trek through their classmates’ attractions.

At last, they reach the end of the row of classrooms designated for the event, and with a wave to the denizens of their final stop, a haunted house room that Kageyama admits scares him more than once, they drift out onto the school grounds to head for the exit.

They’re halfway back to Akaashi’s place, to continue working with what’s left of their day as far as Kageyama presumes, when Akaashi stops abruptly mid-stride. “You know what?” he declares as he quirks a smile at Kageyama. “I don’t want to work today. Why don’t we head down to the waterfront today and see what’s going on with the old carnival they have there?”

Kageyama’s eyes widen as he absorbs the implication of what Akaashi has said. Akaashi wants to take the day off, and he wants to spend it with Kageyama.

With a superhuman effort not to pump his fist in victory, Kageyama nods and says, “Sounds good,” as nonchalantly as he can manage. Akaashi gives him a smile of acknowledgement, and they divert to the train station, which stops only a block from the boardwalk where vendors and street performers collect to please tourists and locals alike.

The carnival, if it can be called such, is no more riveting than the school festival, but Kageyama can’t find it within himself to care. This day belongs to Akaashi and to their reprieve from the regular grind, to Kageyama’s desire just to be around Akaashi without the pretext of work. They’re both here because they want to be, and it leaves a pleasant tingle in Kageyama’s entire being.

They wander around for a few hours, partaking in far too much delicious street food and games they’ll never win before the sun starts to drift down the sky. It’s a blazing burst of orange on the horizon before Kageyama realizes it, and it’s with a certain measure of trepidation as he looks to his side at Akaashi to see if his companion is ready to leave this idyllic day behind.

But Akaashi only slips him a smirk and points to a children’s lighthouse-shaped jungle gym and says, “We should head over there. The fireworks start soon, and we’ll need a good seat.”

“Fireworks?” Kageyama asks, even as he follows along with Akaashi.

Akaashi nods. “Yeah, they do fireworks down here on Friday nights. I haven’t been out to see them in a long time, but I think today is a good day to stay for it. Right, Kageyama?”

He lets out a shuddering breath as he takes in the ease in which Akaashi interacts with him. It isn’t something just anyone can do, and Kageyama has failed such camaraderie with nearly everyone he’s ever met. But with Akaashi, he can be whatever he feels like, and Akaashi accepts it. Accepts him _and_ his idiotic slips of the tongue.

From the bottom of his heart, Kageyama says, “That would be nice.”

So they trot over to the lighthouse, which is avoided by most of the children due to its height and their mothers watching, and maneuver their way to the top of it. By the time they reach the peak, the entire waterfront is bathed in the light of the streetlamps, and they’re looking out over the crystal blue waters of the bay.

“Yeah, we should do this more often,” Akaashi comments as he gazes out towards the barge offshore where they release the fireworks. “If only because people-watching is good for my writing.”

“Of course,” Kageyama agrees, his mood deflating a shade at Akaashi’s practical view of their activities. He doesn’t know why he thought any different, but as the glittering lights from the fireworks shine in Akaashi’s eyes a while later, Kageyama isn’t sure if it matters anymore.

He’s known for a while that they’re only friends, and for better or worse, being friends with Akaashi is pretty cool.

What is not cool, however, is the way Kageyama plummets from the top of the lighthouse into the landscaping bark lining the ground around the play area the moment he realizes Akaashi’s head is resting on his shoulder, cheek burrowing into the soft linen of his yukata.

It only takes a few seconds before he hears the soft _thud_ of Akaashi dropping onto the ground next to the lighthouse, helping Kageyama scrape himself off the ground and brush away the chunks of wood shavings stuck to his abused skin.

“Oh, look at you,” Akaashi mutters as he picks a particularly virulent splinter from Kageyama’s palm. “You’re a mess.”

But even as Akaashi fusses over Kageyama’s body full of battle wounds, Kageyama can only concentrate on the pale sliver of skin exposed by the slightly gaping neckline of Akaashi’s own garment. Swallowing hard, Kageyama croaks, “Akaashi-san.”

Akaashi doesn’t appear to have heard him over his murmured chiding over being careful or something else Kageyama’s roaring ears can’t quite hear. Breathing heavily, Kageyama amends, “Keiji.”

The sound of his given name stops Akaashi’s lecture mid-stream, making his head snap up to look at Kageyama in surprise. “Yes?”

This is it, Kageyama knows. This is where he can change everything. Turn their entire relationship on its head and start over new from that hazy day so many months ago. Akaashi is listening to him and him alone, and if words don’t fail him, there will be no mistake anymore.

But even as he contemplates it, Kageyama rules out the idea. Not because of what he could gain, but what he might lose if Akaashi doesn’t return his affection or feel comfortable possessing it. So Kageyama does the only thing he can think of and blurts, “I’m okay.”

Akaashi sighs in relief as he claps Kageyama on the shoulder. “Yeah, you really are.” He glances up at the top of the lighthouse. “Wanna go back up?”

“I’d like that,” Kageyama agrees, and they climb back up the sides of the lighthouse, settling at the top a little more gingerly this time.

The fireworks blaze on in the night sky, but this time, Kageyama doesn’t react when Akaashi’s cheek rests on his shoulder once more. Well, his heart does, but he doesn’t think Akaashi will ever hear it. He hopes.

But as they gaze across the brilliantly lit water, Kageyama takes a deep breath and allows himself one thing. One slow centimeter at a time, his hand creeps over until his fingers brush against Akaashi’s, and his breath catches when Akaashi’s hand slides over his, fingers slotting together on the top of Kageyama’s knee.

Kageyama wants to look over, he desperately wants to, but he’s frozen in place as Akaashi’s hand makes a home over his, his head still claiming Kageyama’s shoulder as its own.

If it’s possible for a person to catch fire spontaneously, Kageyama thinks he might right at this moment.

The fireworks wind down, and it’s well past ten at night. They have a full day to make up tomorrow, and Kageyama knows they should head out and get some sleep. But it doesn’t provide as much motivation to pry himself out of this moment as it should, so he doesn’t. Instead, he sits there, the skies quiet once more, and waits for Akaashi to make the next move.

Akaashi gives Kageyama’s hand a tight squeeze as his mouth grazes the cap of Kageyama’s shoulder. Lungs paralyzed, Kageyama’s eyes fly open as he realizes what has just happened, and he whips his head to the side to stare at Akaashi.

A soft smile, one Kageyama has never seen, rests on Akaashi’s lips. “Thank you for spending the day with me, Tobio-kun. You’re very good company.”

“I – I . . .” Kageyama forces himself to breathe as he soaks in Akaashi’s gentle demeanor. “I liked it, too.”

“Good,” Akaashi says as he rethreads their fingers and puts his head back on Kageyama’s shoulder. “I’m glad.”

Kageyama eases his clenched hands, allowing Akaashi’s idle strokes of the finger graze the back of his palm. The sensation makes his entire arm hum happily, and he’s not inclined to disturb the process.

He doesn’t know what this is, the odd yet welcome intimacy between them at this moment, this culmination of the long months Kageyama has spent wishing for this very thing, but once thing is certain: he’s not the only one who feels it.

They stay atop the lighthouse for an hour before Akaashi’s shivering chases them down and away from the water’s chill. They ride the bus, sitting shoulder to shoulder despite the almost vacant cab, and as they walk back to Akaashi’s place, their fingers tangle together once again.

Their routine doesn’t really change. At least, not by a lot. Bokuto and Kuroo still tease him about not confessing his feelings to Akaashi, while Yaku pretends he doesn’t want to do the same. They still produce manga panels with minor defects that make Akaashi cluck his tongue on publication day. They still work long into the night when a deadline sneaks up on them, and they still make time for the side comic that has become a hit with readers of all genders.

But here and there, they sneak out for a walk to nowhere or just to people-watch or perhaps to pick up supplies. And as they do, Akaashi’s hand manages to find its way into Kageyama’s grasp, and it doesn’t take much time before he accepts it without tripping over imaginary cracks in the sidewalk or smacking into benches. Here and there, Kageyama will take Akaashi’s hand first, enjoying the way his heart flutters when the motion draws a smile out of the guy beside him.

He doesn’t know what it is, and maybe Kageyama doesn’t care. What he is sure of is that ‘it’ is theirs, and that’s all right by him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that is it! I hope you enjoyed the story and its hopeful outlook. Idk about you guys, but it kills me every time when I think about GSNK and whether Nozaki will ever figure out how much Chiyo really has a thing for him. I wouldn't do that to you guys, hehe.


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